


A Warm Embrace

by thursdayj (thursjournal)



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Tumblr Prompt, ambiguous timeline, john has grumpy gills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 01:59:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6592105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thursjournal/pseuds/thursdayj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is having a bad day, and Sherlock has a surprising solution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Warm Embrace

**Author's Note:**

> for the tumblr prompt from bbcbluebell: omg, what about sherlock trying to cuddle john when john's being super grumpy? x)
> 
> thanks to 221beemine for the beta!

The rain beat relentlessly against the window in a battle with Sherlock's current experiment and Mrs. Hudson’s bridge game to see which could be louder. John shifted in his chair and tried to focus on the newspaper article he'd been reading for at least ten minutes. The chill of the room crept through his jumper and wool socks. His shoulder ached in long dull pulses. He shifted again in a vain attempt to find a comfortable position. Behind him, a beaker rolled across the kitchen table and shattered on the floor. 

“Sodding hell!” John yelled to the room behind him and possibly Mrs. Hudson downstairs.

“Don't worry, it was empty,” Sherlock replied cheerily. 

“Yes, that was my chief concern,” John grumbled.

Mrs. Turner must have had a successful run downstairs, because a volley of cheers drifted up the stairs. Sherlock retrieved a broom and dust pan from the closet in the noisiest way possible and proceeded to sweep the glass shards in screeching strokes across the floor. The bin lid banged open and then shut again. John gripped the paper harder, wrinkling the edges. 

He didn't even realize Sherlock had moved from the kitchen into the living room until he was standing almost in front of the chair. 

“You're cross,” he said

“Yes, brilliant deduction,” John snapped.

Sherlock shifted from one foot to the other and then back again in quick succession. He looked like a kid in a spelling bee who was fairly certain he didn't know the word but was going to make a valiant effort anyway. 

“You're cross because it's raining and the damp makes your shoulder hurt,” Sherlock continued in his crusade of the obvious.

John drew in a breath and let it out slowly through his nose. There was nothing he would like less than to discuss how the weather made him feel like he could have a shouting match with Mother Teresa herself, but that seemed to be what was on the agenda. He folded the paper and set it on the side table. 

Just as he was turning back, Sherlock moved in a swift motion to settle on his now unoccupied lap. The sudden added weight of a full grown man made John huff out a little ‘oof.’ John held his arms frozen in place. Sherlock had always operated with a very loose interpretation of personal space, but this was certainly new. He’d been pushed, pulled, and spun around, but he couldn’t imagine what Sherlock _wanted_ from him in this instance. Sherlock sat across his lap, knees bent and long legs dangling. He didn't seem to know what to do with his arms either, folding and unfolding them awkwardly and elbowing John’s ribs in the process. Finally, Sherlock turned flush with John and leaned against his chest.

John could feel the heat of Sherlock’s body through his jumper as it buffered him from the damp chill of the room. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a grown man sit in his lap. Probably because it had never happened before. This was abnormal, to say the least. He opened his mouth to ask Sherlock what the hell he was on about, but he could feel his own body relaxing under the warm weight. He sighed instead. No one else was here. Mrs. Hudson was busy with her bridge game. Maybe just...a few minutes. He set his hands down on the arms of the chair. 

Sherlock took this as a sign, reaching a long arm around John’s shoulder and working at one of the knotted muscles. John leaned his head forward to rest in the crook of Sherlock's neck. On one side his face touched the smooth dressing gown, and the other side rubbed against the light stubble on Sherlock’s cheek. Warm breath brushed his neck as Sherlock's chest rose and fell.

Sherlock worked each muscle in turn until John's shoulder relaxed back against the chair. 

“I needed that,” John sighed.

“Yes,” Sherlock smiled against the side of John’s face, “brilliant deduction.”


End file.
